


Breathe Again

by DMichelleWrites



Series: D's Olicity Summer Sizzle [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gen, Married Life, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 01:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DMichelleWrites/pseuds/DMichelleWrites
Summary: Even in their Bloomfield bliss, horrible threats still haunt Felicity. How will she cope? Will Oliver and their family be able to help her during this delicate and difficult time?





	Breathe Again

Felicity’s belly was surprisingly smaller. It was as if her baby bump had disappeared with a proof. She heard something, and a black fletched arrow barreled toward her and her son. Her heartbeat spiked as she followed the sound of a crying infant. She and William ran through the woods of Bloomfield. Heavy fog blanketed the sky. Cold air cut through the duo like a knife. Leaves and foliage crunched under their heavy footsteps.

Felicity stood in front of her son, protecting him when Dante suddenly appeared, “William, go now!”

“I’m not leaving you, Felicity.” William vowed, determined and confident as they swapped places, “I can’t lose you two again. Go find Mia and get dad!”

In that familiar green hoodie, their son really resembled his old man. But his goddamn heroic sacrificial nature was not a Queen family trait she wanted William to inherit from his father. Felicity nearly pushed William onto his behind with how quickly she shielded him.

Felicity screamed at the top of her lungs, “Oliver, help!”

She whimpered when the mob boss approached them. Their hearts pounded faster and faster with every single step. He had this boastful grin as the gangster sharpened his ancient knife on the leather holster.

“The spare heir cannot help you now, my darling.”

The baby’s wails grew louder and louder, echoing around them in stereo.

“Dad?! Where are you?!” William yelled, “Felicity, we need to get to Mia now!”

“William, we have to keep going.”

They chased after the sound of an unseen infant bawling in distress.

Felicity yelped as they plowed through the heavy brush, “Oh, ah!, ugh!”

“There’s Dad,” William sighed in relief.

Oliver was perched in a tree. A dark lethal gaze burned in his azure eyes. The newborn’s sobs sound as if they were getting closer to Felicity and William. Strangely, Dante disappeared in a flash. 

“Where are you, Mia?! Where’s my baby girl?!” Felicity pleaded. She desperately tried to find the source of their baby, who was in danger. Her eyes darted around every angle of the creepy forest. “Mommy’s coming. Oh, oh God! I can’t find you!”

Oliver, dressed in Green Arrow leather, nocked his arrow, though he couldn’t get a clear shot.

Dante swore, appearing like a ghost out of thin air. He seemed to have an oddly endless supply of throwing knives “Emiko’s brother is useless to me. However, I do see such great promise in your child, Ms. Smoak.”

“You stay away from my family!” The hacker threatened in a growl. “Stay away from us!”

An arrow thwicked, cutting through the low fog. It barreled into a tree trunk. Oliver’s aim was never off. Suddenly, a swift thwick cut through the heavy fog.

“I’m so…” The teenager gagged, coughing up blood, “Fe...”

Dantie’s blade punctured straight through his heart. He bled out from his heart and he fell lifeless in the dirt. His skin felt cold and clammy. The boy immediately turned ghostly pale. The hacker plummeted onto her knees in agony. She sobbed harder than she ever had in her entire life. She yanked out the dagger, even though it was too late. Felicity collapsed on top of her son, beating his torso as she desperately tried to start his dormant heart. She clawed at that familiar green hoodie akin to a security blanket. Her palms were completely drenched in their son’s blood.

Felicity cursed, charging at Dante with everything she had, “You bastard!”

“The boy was too soft for our business, my darling. But your daughter, she will be the key to our future. The Ninth Circle needs a true leader.” Dante prophesied.

The infant’s cries suddenly returned, louder than they had ever been before.

The hacker vowed in a low gritty tone “You’ll pay for this! I’ll kill you!”

She pummeled her assailant. His left eye was swollen shut. Her knuckles were bruised, dotted with tiny reddish marks. Her fists cracked harshly against his skull countless times. Felicity furiously jabbed, kicked, grunted, and groaned over the cold blooded murderer. It was frighteningly similar to her battle with Diaz in Hope Springs. Dante and the Ninth Circle were the main reasons their family was on the run in Michigan. Their family would never be safe with this wretched old man alive since he would always be after them. She gave this attack everything she had, although he overpowered her due to strange overuse of the Lazarus Pit mixed with a Mirakuru cocktail. Dante had her pinned in the mud.

“Can you not see, Ms. Smoak?” Dante believed as he wiped the blood off his goatee, “It is your daughter’s birthright. Only those of Queen blood are fit to rule the Ninth Circle. We must have her.”

Oliver fired another arrow and missed. Too late. Dante threw a knife engraved with a phoenix that pierced straight through her abdomen, which housed their precious daughter. She finally awoke after seeing that haunting blade gleaming in her mind’s eye.

Felicity gasped, sitting up in bed, “Oh!”

She looked to her left. Oliver was sound asleep on his stomach, or so she thought. The tech mogul sighed heavily. Although, worry still weighed her down. That anxiety was akin to an anchor pinning her back to bed. But first Felicity had to be one hundred percent certain that their son was okay. She plucked her SQ-phone off her husband’s nightstand and immediately pulled up security camera footage of their apartment. William was safe and sound asleep in his own bed. His feet were where his head should be, and a novel entitled Beyond Starlane Park by Becca Bellotto laid open, askew on his stomach. She gnawed at her lower lip. Her maroon nightgown was practically painted on her alabaster skin and darkened with huge blotches of profuse sweat.

“F’Lissy?” Oliver breathed drearily, eyelids draped shut.

“Geez!” His wife whisper-yelled, hands raised in a karate chop defense, “Were you up this entire time?”

Her husband mumbled in his pillow, slowly rising in a more coherent state. “Mm, no.”

“Sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

He didn’t answer that question. His eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. He rolled over onto his back and really looked at his wife. It was as if his eyes gazed deep into her soul.

He surmised, adjusting the ruffled strap on her slip, “Nightmare?”

“Y-yeah.” She huffed nervously, lips rolling into her mouth.

His expression was calming and gentle. Felicity could just tell, even though it was dark in their room. And Oliver knew exactly how bad nightmares could be, he had the same recurring fear throughout his entire sentence at Slabside.

His eyebrow quirked, “Want to talk about it, Baby?”

On that note, Felicity’s gaze drifted down to her baby bump as if she needed to know Mia was safe as well. Her fingers light tapped below her bellybutton, and their daughter gave her a hard kick to the kidney. Felicity’s lips lifted in a smile, though that relief didn’t reach her eyes.

“Not right now.” Felicity replied, knowing neither of them never get enough sleep. “Let’s just get some rest.”

Oliver drew out her name like butter, “Felicity.”

She looked between her man and the clock. Felicity knew he wouldn’t let this go that easily.

“It was Dante again.” His wife admitted in a huff.

“Oh, Baby, what do you need?”

She shimmied closer to him, “Just hold me.”

Normally, Felicity hated sleeping so close to her husband in the summer. His body heat was akin to a furnace, but she needed to just feel him. Oliver’s tired face drooped with worry. His hands carded through her damp hair. He turned his wife gently, scooting as close as he could. Felicity wedged her long pink elephant printed pregnancy pillow under her back. She told him as much as she wanted about the nightmare, and he held her close just as she asked. 

Oliver took a moment to strip off his black boxer briefs, and then he delicately removed his wife’s nightgown. Oliver flicked on their bedroom light, and Felicity’s face crumpled in annoyance.

“Sorry.” He promised, not letting her go until he left the bed, “I’ll be right back.”

“Oliver, Honey, what are you doing?”

In response, the tech mogul heard a telltale sound of the faucet running in their master bathroom. Oliver’s bare feet padded the cold hardwood floor as he returned with a wet face towel. He massaged it over inch of her skin, cleaning off her sweat. Then Oliver dried her off with his fluffy blue towel they stole from a hotel just a week ago on her birthday.

Her husband dotted a wet smooch on her forehead, “Better?”

“A little, but come back to bed now. It’s late, and we have to be up in, ugh, four hours.” Felicity reminded, patting his side.

“Okay.”

Oliver did just that. His palm drifted down to the swell of her belly before he looped his arms just beneath her breasts. She hissed as her sore nipples grazed his chest. He attempted to pull back slightly, but Felicity kept her husband close. Her tired blue eyes met his, and it was almost inconceivable how someone could look at another person with so much love. But Oliver and Felicity looked at each other like that nearly every night.

The hacker commanded with a loud yawn, “Archer, lights off.”

“Yes, Mrs. SQ.” The A.I. responded with Ben Turner’s suave deep voice.

Oliver harrumphed, “You changed it to Turner’s voice, but I like…”

Before her man could protest any further, he heard the sound of Felicity’s snores. He pursed his lips at the thought of sweet wife’s snorts and loud breaths resembling a broken air conditioner. Thankfully, he kept his amusement to himself. He pecked the tip of her nose in the darkness. They were pressed against each other — skin to skin with not a stitch between them. His calloused fingers were feather light against old scars that were either pink or some had already blended in with her skin tone. He hoped his heartbeat lulled Felicity just as hers often did to his countless times. Her body was calm and warm against his. She felt safe in the warm little cocoon they created in the center of their bed.

“Good night, girls.” He whispered to both his wife and daughter, “Sweet dreams.”

His comforting hold went lax as he slipped back into slumber. Felicity had these little whimpers, yet she didn’t fully wake again until later that morning. Sunlight crept through the window, and Felicity groaned in disagreement.

“Is it me or is morning coming earlier and earlier? Why sun?” Felicity said in a gruff voice, rubbing crusty remains of sleep from her eyes.

She noshed on a piece of raisin bread toast with some plain oatmeal and water. Oliver noticed how his wife really worked in some concealer under her slight dark circles and eye bags. However, Felicity still insisted on going to work. The CEO took her self-driving silver Range Rover to their new Michigan branch of Smoak Tech. She muddled through her work day until her vision nearly went cross at all those quarterly reports. The boss managed to chow down on her husband’s chicken stew after numerous reminders from her secretary Rafael. She waddled in her red panda ballet flats to the R&D department.

Felicity sighed tiredly, “Show me what you got, Z.”

“You okay, boss?” Zari wondered, helping her friend stay upright, “We could do the demonstration on Friday. Maybe you should get some more sleep.”

She nodded, “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll do that.”

The consistent clack from her Newton’s Cradle was strangely calming. Her eyelids drooped heavily. The clock struck five. Oliver and Rafael found Felicity asleep at her desk. She yelped and Mia kicked when she felt a cool metal against her scarred shoulder briefly. Mia jabbed her insides. Felicity frowned, realizing their unborn daughter could feel her anxiety. 

Rafael retreated, “Sorry, Mrs. Smoak-Queen, it’s only me. Your husband and son came by to pick you up.”

“Right, right.” She murmured, fixing her glasses back in its place, “How did you two get here without the car? Oliver, you know I think he’s still too young to be on the back of your bike.”

“We-we jogged.” William panted, nearly doubling over in exertion.

His father reminded, “Come on. It was only about two and a half miles, son.”

“It’s easy for you.” The teenager argued, “You and Mom are frigging superheroes.”

Felicity gasped as their son wear his dad’s faded emerald hoodie came to her in vibrant screaming color. She recoiled, and it clearly spooked her.

William’s eyebrows flew up his forehead, “Uh-oh, you okay, Felicity? Is something wrong with you or Mia?”

“No, no, no, your little sister is perfectly fine. It’s just, uh, work stuff.” His mom fibbed, tucking a blue manila folder with a Smoak Tech seal under her arm, “Lot of work stuff. I better take that home, so let’s go.”

William nodded, although from the way his lips twitched, he clearly didn’t believe her. Despite the burning ache in his hamstrings, he jogged slightly ahead of his parents to the elevator. 

Felicity pinched her furrowed brow, “He knows.”

“Mm-hm.” Her husband hummed, rubbing her chubby knuckles, “So what’s got you so on edge right now, my love?”

“Noth…”

“Don’t say nothing. Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen, I want the truth please.”

She grumbled, “Fine.”

Felicity confessed that frightening little secret in her man’s ear. They caught to William, who was holding the elevator door open with his foot.

“Careful, bud.” Oliver worried, checking his ankle after the trio stepped inside the elevator cab

William sighed in assurance as Oliver checked his son’s foot, “I’m totally schway, dad. Chillax.”

“Just making sure.”

Felicity coughed, “Helicopter husband.”

“And Dad.” Their son added.

Felicity and William may have shared a chuckle at Oliver’s expense. Although, his wife and son’s harmonious laughter became the archer’s favorite songs. He loved that sound more than the roar from his sleek Ducati, and he couldn’t wait until Mia’s giggles joined theirs when she was old enough. He and Felicity couldn’t wait for all their firsts, and for William to teach his sisters things her parents never could.

“Alright, alright, I hear you.” Oliver chuckled briefly clearing his throat, “Hey, William, maybe you should take off that hoodie.”

After taking a swig of water, the fourteen year old asked, “What? Why?”

His father insisted, “Because I said so.”

“But I’m fine.”

“Because your face is bright pink, which means you’re too warm, so take off that ratty hoodie before you get heat stroke.” Felicity clarified in one long breath with a hand on her hip.

“Okay.” William responded diligently, yanking the hoodie over his head as it seemed to bother his parents for some reason, “That was a better answer than ‘because I said so’, dad.”

Oliver sucked air through his teeth, “Point taken. Thank you Honey.”

“You’re welcome.” Felicity winked badly, closing both eyes.

Oliver and William both bit back a snicker. To be fair, her husband couldn’t wink properly either. But that was the furthest thought from his mind. Felicity put on a happy face in front of their son, and Oliver could see it in those tired azure eyes. He wanted to talk to her about it, but his wife actually managed to catch some z’s after a hearty dinner of salmon, kale, and sweet potatoes. He covered her with a Robin Hood quilt patched with foxes and hand drawn archers.

“Honey, I think we should…”

“I’m fine, Baby.” His wife shushed him with a finger to his lips.

She said that repeated, though it was clear she was anything but fine. Zari saw how she trembled after loud clangs from the ZT steering wheel assembly line the next day. She dozed off when Oliver was practicing at his archery gym shirtless the following night. Her eyes were usually glued to his ample ass in those khaki shorts. This wasn’t like her, his Felicity. His wife would practically jump five feet when he would chop vegetables. She wasn’t eating as much either, and that behavior was nerve wracking because Felicity was supposed to eating for two. However, Oliver still made sure she had three healthy meals a day, even if she picked at the fruit and vegetables on her plate. A fork clinked against her little maroon bowl of chill verde.

“Lis…”

She replied with a mouthful, “Can’t talk now.”

She’d fall asleep at her workstation at home or the office. And she had the same nervous reaction when arrows landed in their huge backyard. It turned out those wooden arrows were from rowdy hunters in search of a large buck — the jerky Hillbilly bastards. This was more than Dante. This was something more, something else, but why now?

“Well, at least you managed to get some rest.” Oliver sighed, smooching her hand

He sat her back and draped a wool blanket over his girls. Felicity refused to talk about her issues, and that was certainly strange. By Saturday as Oliver dropped his wife off to her prenatal yoga class, Felicity was super aware and vigilant of her surroundings. It was almost as if she was waiting for some sort of attack.

His wife insisted, “Oliver, I know me. I can handle whatever this is.”

“Felicity, we both know what this is. And we really need to talk tonight. Please don’t shut me out.”

He wasn’t demanding per se, yet Oliver’s insistent tone meant there was no room for argument. The archer should’ve known better than that, but his amazing wife, Felicity Smoak-Queen was a five foot five inch little spitfire.

“This isn’t post traumatic stress, Oliver.” She countered in an annoyed huff, knowing what he was going to say, “This is just some silly little anxiety.”

“Really?” Her man pointed out, “Because you and I both live with PTSD, and what you’re feeling, how you’re acting looks a lot like it, so let me help you.”

She pointed to herself, “Trust me, I’ve got this. In fact, maybe some yoga will do me some good.”

“Hon, you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I know.”

Felicity understood that, but before they were married, she was on her own. And even during Oliver’s prison sentence, the hacker was far too used to solving her problems by herself.

Felicity sniped, “Will you stop worrying so much? I’m your wife — not your child, damn it.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I love you, Felicity.”

Her harsh gaze softened, “I love you, too Oliver. Just let me handle this in my own time.”

His lips enveloped hers in a passionate kiss to remind his wife that she would never be alone again. His fingers almost combed through her blonde locks on instinct, although he stopped himself before he messed up her already messy bun. That single kiss was a promise from her husband that he would do his damnedest, so no harm would come to her, William, or Mia as long as they lived. He inhaled a soft pant, peppering smooches every which way on her tummy. His stubble tickled, even though she wore a soft cotton grey “Princess growing” tank top.

His wink was also horrible as he tried to flirt like he had dust in his eye, “Later, Baby.”

“Bye!” His wife chimed, stretching out the word. She smiled with a head shake. 

Felicity slipped out of her sneakers and socks. Then she rolled out her lavender yoga mat.

Her yoga instructor Emily announced, “Okay, ladies, let’s kick things off with the wide child’s pose.”

A small group of six expectant mothers came down on all fours. They narrowly sat back on their heels as their arms slapped against multi-colored mats. The class shifted a wide seat fold, and that near split was murder on their thighs. Groans sounded off in a cacophony throughout the studio. Eventually, the long stretch delightfully cracked her lower back. The third pose was rudely called cat-cow, where the class got down on all fours like felines with their tushes pressed high in the air. They carried on with seated and standing tree poses. There were lunges that made Felicity break a sweat after the penultimate squat, and the final pose was an easy seated lotus position as the class sat cross legged on the floor. Some of Felicity’s muscles were both relaxed and sore in different spots.

Her teacher advised, “You okay, Mrs. Q. Why don’t you grab some water?”

“Oh, I’m on it,” Her student assured, guzzling ice cold water from her pink bottle.

Emily noted, “I know my class is tough sometimes, but you do so well, Felicity, you could teach it yourself.”

“I don’t know about that.” Felicity thought, tapping her lips, “But I used to teach a few yoga classes along with my tutoring gigs in college.”

She had a broad toothy smile, slinging a rag around her neck, Well, it definitely shows.”

“Thank you.” Felicity exhaled in exhaustion.

The hacker walked out of her class, relieved that some of the physical pain was gone. But it did nothing to alleviate the nervousness and emotional pain she was feeling. Her purple floral yoga pants were crumpled on the tiled bathroom floor. Felicity let the warm spray wash over her front. The shampoo and conditioner already rinsed out of her hair. She could feel small suds under her toes. She was hyper focused on that goddamn nightmare. It felt so real, and it was like a horror movie on repeat. She heard the curtain rustle, and Felicity instinctively raised her fist. She jabbed Oliver on his brick wall of hard abs.

Her husband complimented with a wince, “Woah! Good form, Felicity.”

He tried to brush off the slight pain with a stupidly charming smile. Only Oliver would get punched by his wife and think of anything to make her smile again. But his praise didn’t work.

She shrieked, “Why would you do that?! Diaz attacked me out of the shower, you know-you know that...”

Salty tears slid down her cheeks. Felicity didn’t realize she was already crying softly. Her cries ratcheted up into full blown sobs. This wasn’t pregnancy hormones. This was clearly PTSD.

“I know it scares you.” He apologized, “I called you three times. I thought you heard me. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Come here, Baby.”

Felicity needed to cry it out in his arms, and she did. She sobbed until he was starting to get concerned for her heart rate. Mia wiggled every which way in the womb, and Oliver felt those little muslings and flutters against his abs. His gaze flicked down to the growing swell of her stomach. He wondered if Mia’s activity was discomfort or their unborn child trying to comfort her mother. The corners of his lips lifted in a soft grin at the mere thought of his sweet caring little Mia.

“Oh, my God. I can’t believe I…”

She vomited into the shower drain, and Oliver ripped off his sopping wet blue jeans and matching shirt as if they offended him. It joined her clothes with a loud smack. 

“I gotcha.” He rubbed small circles over her back, “I gotcha, Baby.”

Felicity’s sobbed eased into whimpers as she didn’t move a muscle. Oliver lathered body wash in his rough palms and massaged it gently into her skin from her shoulders down to her feet. He rinsed his wife with a calm setting on the shower head. Felicity ended up huddled on her side of the bed in one of her husband’s Green Arrow Archer, est. 2019 emerald t-shirts. She wished she could melt into the mattress. They talked finally after a long, stressful week. Felicity reluctantly agreed to make an appointment with her OBGYN on Monday.

The walls of her doctor’s office were a light chocolate brown. That seemed to be all Felicity could focus on her until Dr. Daniels prompted her.

Dr. Daniels offered, “Tell me as much as you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay, here goes...” Her patient sighed heavily.

She recounted the majority of the details from her nightmare, and the subsequent symptoms that followed. Dr. Daniels honestly listed the side effects that anxiety and post traumatic stress could have a fetus. Oliver and Felicity waited with bated breath as the good doctor performed a necessary ultrasound. The video imagery was gray and fuzzy, although thankfully their squirmy baby girl was given a clean bill of health. Mia’s mommy and daddy breathed a sigh of relief at the same time.

“So now what?” Oliver inquired, squeezing his wife’s shoulders.

Dr. Daniels recommended, “Therapy is usually quite helpful.”

“Well…” Felicity hesitated in a high pitched voice, “Um, I’m sure John knows a psychotherapist at Knightwatch.”

The doctor approved, “Good, and keep up with the yoga. Mediation is known to help. Or eventually you might try getting a service dog.”

Oliver nodded, making mental notes, “Okay, we’ll get started on some of that.”

Felicity made it through one session before she thought the Knightwatch therapist was not the right fit for her. Dr. Harleen Quinzel seemed like she lost a couple marbles herself. Rumor was she fell dangerously in love with one of psychotic patients Alan Moore, who was locked up for good reason at Arkham Asylum. Though the hacker found one piece of information helpful. She would write down every nightmare and PTSD symptoms in her journal. Oliver took that to heart as well. He scrawled in a checkered green notebook, whereas his wife padded her thumbs against her crimson Smoak Tech tablet. She playfully teased her husband about his twentieth century method.

“Old man.” She stuck her tongue out at him.

He tossed his journal on the nightstand, “Hey, it still works just fine for me. Okay?”

“I know.”

They engaged in a tickle fight until Felicity had to scurry to bathroom as best she could and relieve herself

His wife said sarcastically, “I hate you.”

Though her breathy giggles were a dead giveaway stating otherwise

“Love you too, Felicity.” Oliver responded, intertwining their fingertips as she approached the bed.

The next night, Oliver and Felicity meditated together. William’s plan to play video games were thwarted.

The young man sighed, looking away from his mom in a sky blue sports bra, “I’m not even going to ask.”

“Your dad and I just need to relax.” Felicity explained, muscles cracking as she sat cross legged on their plush white carpet.

William bid with a dismissive, “Schway,” before he retreated to his room.

Oliver struck a match and lit two vibrant purple candles that had a subtle scent of lavender. Felicity’s eyes draped shut as she sucked in a breath.

“Take three deep breaths.”

Felicity’s shoulders shrugged thrice along with her breath.

“Picture yourself floating on a cloud.”

Felicity saw a big puffy cumulus cloud.

“Your breath becomes air. Breathe with me.”

“Breathe again.” She joked in a sing-song voice, subsequently humming the Sara Bareilles ballad.

“Felicity, Honey, come on. You don’t have to be funny for me.”

“Alright, I’m done.” His wife inhaled a sharp breath, “I’m focused right here with you.”

Felicity envisioned their children flying a kite in their big backyard. Oliver’s Constantine tattoo glowed, wrapping them couple in warm heavenly ribbons of light. It was strangely peaceful and calming.

With one eye open, her husband wondered, “Now how do you feel?”

“Calmer, for now at least.” His wife admitted after a long beat.

Her man chimed, “Good.”

They weren’t out of the woods yet, but it was a nice baby step in the heroes’ ongoing recovery with PTSD. Not a second later, an arrow crashed in through the window and made their digital family photo flicker for a moment. William’s sneakers squeaked against the floor.

Will asked, “What the frack was that?”

“Ah, ah, ah, language young man.” Felicity tisked, holding his hand to stand up.

His foot brushed against his ankle.

Looking down at his shoelaces, he blushed, “Sorry.”

Oliver saw the projectile was a red arrow with a note attached from Thea. “Dante is taken care of”

The archer gulped down the sickening thought of his little sister having to kill again. But Dante was around for centuries, he and Felicity should’ve figured Thea and Nyssa would find a way to eliminate that bastard.

Clapping her husband on the shoulder, Felicity acknowledged, “Well, at least someone killed that son of a…”

“Ahem, language.” Their son piped up with a cheeky smirk.

His step-mom corrected, “Bad guy.”

Silver tiger claws soon flew to Thea’s red arrow as if they were magnetized. Turner’s note had a USB taped on a claw. 

Felicity read, “Here’s your proof. Security cam footage of the mission at Monument Point. You welcome, Queenies — BT.”

The hacker double checked the security footage, and their imminent threat was indeed gone. But the Ninth Circle was like the most depressing game of whack-a-mole ever. Some villain would always be after their children because of what they do. And their PTSD wouldn’t just vanish into thin air. But for right now, they could finally live their lives in peace here in Bloomfield. Just as the sun set, Oliver and Felicity found themselves cuddled up in a field of wildflowers on a checkered picnic blanket. William was asleep at their feet after a hearty lunch. He used that faded green hoodie as a pillow.

Oliver hoped, “You think the four of us will be okay?”

“We can dream, right?” Felicity replied, tracing the ridges of his abs through his gray t-shirt.

“Yeah.” He said, fingertips dancing along with their daughter’s movements, “Tell me again what you saw when we meditated.”

She giggled, “Oliver, I already told you three times.”

“Please.” Her husband pouted, jutting out his lower lip.

“Okay.”

Felicity told her man the happy daydream in vivid detail. She added a few extra tidbits each time she told him. They both wanted that dream so badly, and four and a half months later, their dream had finally become a reality.

**Author's Note:**

> Kindness and Kudos fuel my muse.  
Tumblr: [DMichelleWrites](http://dmichellewrites.tumblr.com/)  
Twitter: [@dmichellewrites](https://twitter.com/dmichellewrites)


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